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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207493">Pearls and Turquoise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/geewritessometimes/pseuds/geewritessometimes'>geewritessometimes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dream Sex, Dreamscapes, Fever Dreams, M/M, Magic, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, jaskier is a mother hen, subconscious pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:47:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/geewritessometimes/pseuds/geewritessometimes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt gets injured and poisoned, and passes out. He has a vivid fever dream about Jaskier.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>242</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pearls and Turquoise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>who loooooooves symbolism???</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The last thing Geralt remembers before passing out is the burning agony of the poisoned gash on his thigh and Jaskier’s screaming- at him to stay awake, and at the innkeeper downstairs to call a healer. He remembers forcing himself to make it to the bed so that Jaskier doesn’t have to drag him there, collapsing, and fading away into blackness. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt fever-dreams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cave is lit in turquoise, and he can hear the faint trickle of water echoing somewhere. Where it’s coming from, he can’t tell, but it’s feeding a narrow winding stream splitting the room in twain. The stream glows from within, somehow, the same turquoise that’s lighting the entire cave. When he looks closer, he can see elegant white doves swimming just below the surface. They have eyes made of pearls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the back of the cave, there is a grand throne made of opal and winged by doves. The arms are carved into the shape of birds. Seated on the throne is someone who looks like Jaskier, though context would suggest it’s not him. He’s dressed in sheer, blue drapery and nothing else. It folds enough over his lap that Geralt can’t see anything there, but his nipples are clear as day. He’s got magnificent necklaces strung with silver coins layered on his neck too, plus silver coin bracelets and anklets. When Geralt inspects the bracelets, he notices that Jaskier’s nails are long as claws and painted azure blue. There are complicated patterned tattoos on all his fingers, decorated with silver rings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s face is the same as it’s always been, and yet different. He looks very serious and regal. His eyelids are painted blue, as are his plush lips. Big silver earrings dangle from his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally notices Geralt standing at the mouth of the cave. His expression shifts from stern to seductive, and he extends a hand wordlessly. Somehow, Geralt knows what to do. He approaches, side-stepping the stream, until he’s at the throne. He hadn’t realized, but the thing is elevated, so that he has to tilt his head back to look Jaskier in the eye. Jaskier bends forward and traces a long claw along Geralt’s jawline. It makes Geralt’s knees feel like pudding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you possess a great many things which you pretend not to want.” Jaskier murmurs, scrutinizing him with eyes so weighty and blue they make Geralt’s head swim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Geralt asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hums and doesn’t answer. He keeps stroking Geralt’s face. Like he’s evaluating him. Eventually, he parts his blue lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why am I here?” he asks Geralt, even though he clearly already knows the answer. Unfortunately, Geralt has no idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiles sadly, shaking his head. “There you go again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He removes his hand and sits back in his throne, and Geralt feels like he’s failed a test of some kind. It makes his chest seize up in panic, and suddenly he’ll do absolutely anything to change the situation. To keep Jaskier from disappearing into blue seafoam and pearls. He reaches out and grasps Jaskier’s hand from out of his own lap and squeezes it, pleading. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Please wait.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think I’ve done enough waiting?” Jaskier says accusingly, but his tone is gentle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt kisses the back of his hand, right on the tattoos. The silver rings are refreshingly cold. “Please. A little longer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. I think not.” Jaskier replies, but then he’s sliding down off the throne and into Geralt’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s sheer blue fabric everywhere. Geralt wants to tear it to shreds in a frenzy so he can get a better look at those nipples and everything else. Before he descends into madness and actually does it, Jaskier grabs his chin and forces him to make eye contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll repay me handsomely for this, Geralt. Do I have your word?” he demands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All my coin. Everything I have. Everything I’ll ever earn again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want money.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier kisses him then, and Geralt groans. Jaskier’s breath, his saliva, makes Geralt’s head go foggy, and he feels drunk. His hands twist in Jaskier’s drapery, finding his ass and grabbing hard. Jaskier obligingly lifts a thigh and hooks it around Geralt’s waist, and the motion, the way he’s offering himself, sets Geralt on fucking fire. He’s never been so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>horny. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s never touched a creature so beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tumbles Jaskier to the cave floor and starts ripping the drapery off him. Jaskier, blushing hot, pulls off all of his own jewelry and throws it to the side. Geralt belatedly realizes that he’s naked, has been this whole time, and he doesn’t care at all. More convenient this way. Once he gets Jaskier bare, he blankets himself all over him, grinding their hips together, mashing their mouths together, touching him all over on all his smooth, pearl-white skin. Jaskier is moaning breathily, and it sounds like pure music in Geralt’s ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On some level, somewhere, Geralt knows that this is not real, because he nudges his cock against Jaskier’s entrance without so much as spitting, but magic dreams being magic dreams, Jaskier’s already wet and slippery. Geralt slides right in, and in all his long life, he’s never felt anything even remotely this good. The ecstasy of it makes him feel like he’s on the verge of going insane, and Jaskier’s ensuing moan of pleasure doesn’t help. Geralt bites one of his nipples and then his throat, and starts pounding him hard. He fucks harder than he ever would if he were in his right mind, but somehow, he knows Jaskier can take it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jaskier gasps, claws digging sharp into Geralt’s forearms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Along with his own pleasure, Geralt can also feel Jaskier’s, and it feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It feels like wanting and waiting for a long time for the sun, and finally seeing the first rays of dawn. It feels like orgasming a million and one times, like melting in the core of a star. He feels Jaskier’s toes curling in the back of his own mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s so invested in fucking Jaskier that Geralt only half-notices the rising water around them. The stream is overflowing, and the cave is now ankle-deep in turquoise water. Waterlogged doves with pearl eyes are flapping and splashing all around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt flips them so that he’s on his back in the shallow water and Jaskier is straddling him. It goes into his ears, muffling everything. He doesn’t have to say anything, Jaskier just starts riding him right away. He rides hard. Geralt grips his thighs, and they’re firm as stone, so powerful, throwing Jaskier up and down on Geralt’s cock like he’s made for it. Jaskier throws his head back and moans as he does it, like he’s never felt anything so good in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water level rises more, and suddenly Geralt is completely submerged, and so is Jaskier up to his chest. Geralt isn’t panicked at all, though he probably should be. He doesn’t need to breathe. Nothing matters but Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Jaskier rides, the water keeps rising, and eventually they’re both fully underwater. They start to float then, and Jaskier loses his leverage. They dance together in the weightlessness of water as Geralt twirls them, winds their limbs together, fucks him as best he can without anything to brace against. Jaskier settles on wrapping one leg around Geralt’s waist and both arms around his shoulders, pressing their bodies together as close as possible. Geralt’s definitely never felt such intimacy with someone. He never wants to let go. Jaskier’s so hot and tight. Geralt wants to come pearls deep inside him. A dove swims past their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s as they start getting close to orgasm that Geralt feels it. An odd sensation of being spread open, right in the center of his chest. He looks down and sees just that: a chasm opening up between his pectorals, revealing a glowing red heart inside. Goopy, fleshy red tendrils start reaching out from it, and then he realizes that Jaskier’s heart is doing the same thing. Their two hearts connect and intertwine, glowing bright red in the sea of turquoise, exchanging slime and blood and feeling. Geralt groans, unleashing a cacophony of bubbles, and comes long and hard into Jaskier’s tight heat. He feels Jaskier’s accompanying orgasm in his bones. He holds him through it, sinking his teeth into Jaskier’s pretty shoulder to ground them both, and closing his eyes to savor the feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they start to come down, suddenly, his lungs are burning. He opens his eyes and the water is dark navy and full of sediment, and he can’t see Jaskier in front of him. Fuck, he needs to breathe, he needs to breathe so badly, or he’s going to die- </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt jolts awake with a desperate gasp that has him on the verge of choking. He clutches his chest, half-expecting his hand to disappear into a chasm in his chest, but he only grasps the fabric of his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, rushing over to the bed from wherever he was and sitting right up against him. He grabs Geralt’s shoulders. “You’re awake! Thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>Melitele! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oh, you horrible, selfish bastard! I nearly had a heart attack!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s nostrils flare at the sight and feeling of Jaskier before him, of Jaskier </span>
  <em>
    <span>touching </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. It’s way too much so soon after the dream. He still feels like he’s inside him, like he just finished coming in him. He can’t even speak. The dream will not willingly stop battling ferociously against reality. All Geralt can do is sit there and breathe heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The healer said you’d wake up after a few hours, but it’s been almost a full day! Do you have any idea how stressed I’ve been? I must be half-gray by this point! I’ve just been replacing the rag on your forehead and praying in alternation, non-stop. You’d better repay me </span>
  <em>
    <span>handsomely </span>
  </em>
  <span>for this, do you understand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line, straight out of the dream, hits Geralt like a punch to the sternum, and his eyes widen. He literally can’t force a single syllable out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, this Jaskier doesn’t scrutinize him. He feels Geralt’s forehead instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, good. Definitely cooler now. Oh, I could cry, I’m so relieved. Are you hungry? I’ll go get some soup from downstairs. And you’d better drink something, too. You need water after sweating profusely for so long. Yes, I’ll go do that. You just sit tight, I’ll only be a minute.” Jaskier stands up and heads for the door. Just before leaving, he pauses and glances at Geralt over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright?” he asks in a much gentler tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s heart pounds. No, he’s not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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